Narc

I’m narcoleptic. It sucks, but that’s life. One day my boss decided he
had enough of my “rude behavior”. I fell asleep mid-sentence as we
were discussing how to increase productivity. He took a permanent
marker and drew a Hitler mustache on me. I spent half the afternoon
trying to figure out why some of my co-workers were giggling at me
while others appeared horrified at the very sight of me. He also
introduces me as “the necrophiliac” because he’s an idiot and can’t
remember the word narcoleptic.

Bad AIM

I actually have both an ignorant boss and a co-worker. They tend to pick
a person and concentrate all of their efforts into making this person
feel as low as possible. In recent years, it’s been me.

One of many examples I’ll share is this. We have roller chairs in
our office that tend to get passed around from station to station,
since there are more people than chairs. No chair stays in one station
for longer than a day and a person rarely gets the same chair two days
in a row. One of the chairs needed to be oiled and began making
grinding noises when sat upon. Now, I’m not a stringbean, maybe 40
lbs overweight at 5’2”, but there are people in the office as large
as, or larger than I. One day when I sat on this particular chair and
the noise was made, I heard a snicker. My boss and co-worker were
looking at each other and giggling while glancing at me. My boss then
began to type on her keyboard and low and behold, my IM goes off. Her
head slowly turned to me with a deer in the headlight look as my IM
made a “ding” sound. It was quite comical really, because I knew
what was coming. The boss had meant to send my co-worker an IM about
me but sent it TO me instead. The IM? “Fat ass is breaking our chairs.”

The Conference Room

10 years ago I was working for an inventory company at the main
headquarters when I got a new boss. She was about 24 years old, blond
and hot. Her accent just made her hotter. She was all business,
pleasant but always serious about the job.

After she had been there about 6 months, she asked me to help her stack
file boxes in the conference room after the division managers meeting.
I ended up waiting in the empty building until they left around 7:00 pm.
When we went into the conference room, she came up behind me, put her
arms around my waist and pushed her ample chest into my back. I kinda
froze, and when I heard her whisper, “I want your cock” I started
chuckling. She pronounced it like “caulk” and that got me laughing.
No, I didn’t blow it. We got it on and she was the best boss I ever
had…literally.

Unicorn Spit

I work in a small, locally owned bookstore. Sadly, it is a dying
breed. I would like to blame my nerdy boss for the decline in book
sales, but alas, I know it is the internet that is responsible. Mind
you, my boss isn’t terrible just a bit, well, odd. He walks around
spouting jargon from various popular book series and expects us to
reciprocate and think he is cool. We have a section with older,
somewhat rare books and one day I was picking one up off the floor. I
had just eaten lunch, so I think he feared my hands were sticky, so he
pointed a pen at me and screamed, “EXPELLIARMUS!” to try to get me to
drop it.

A man who has a nearby print shop came in one day–the boss
hates this guy–and as he walked around the store, the boss pointed a
pen at him and said quietly, over and over, “Crucio! Crucio!” He has
told me, numerous times, that the print shop owner is a squib.

His wife dropped by one day and I overheard him in what can only be
described as the strangest dirty conversation I’ve ever heard in my
life: “I think my basilisk wants to enter your chamber of secrets. My
wand is 8 inches, stiff, and full of unicorn spit.”

He calls me Weasley because my name is Ron. I suppose it could be worse,
he could be obsessed with Twilight.